Aproned, smiling, and poised before a pie-filled oven, the central figure in I Followed The Recipe, Till I Didn’t appears to embody the idyllic mid-century housewife. But the image fractures quickly... her expression is knowing, the illusion paper burns behind her eyes, and nestled among the cherry pies is the smiling head of a man, baked in, sealed tight, served warm.

As a companion to You Wouldn’t Lie to Me Would You?, this piece extends the narrative from personal reckoning to systemic indictment. Hannah confronts the persistent cultural fantasy that women once knew their place... and should return to it. In doing so, she exposes the nostalgia weaponized by patriarchal ideologies… a recipe handed down through politics, media, and tradition, disguised as comfort but laced with control.

This isn’t just about a woman refusing to bake one more pie... it’s about the refusal to be consumed. I Followed The Recipe, Till I Didn’t is a visual protest against the rollback of women’s rights, a satirical altar to what happens when submission curdles into resistance. The kitchen becomes a battleground... and the timer has already gone off.